Morose and unkind,
Unfeeling, unheeding, blind;
The winds laugh and moan;
Unknowing, unknown.
- The Canticle of Menkeret
*****************************
Night. I am alone in my cell in the house of Heshuzius. I am one of his possessions; a thing to be used, like a ladle. Or so he thinks. But I am no ladle, I am a sword, I am a rod of iron. Heshuzius does not know me, nor do any of these Darrakhai. I am a thing as foreign to them as snow is to the howling desert.
I am alone yet I am never afraid; my gods are ever with me and though I may perish in the darkness, I will always be their child. Menkeret and his kin are good to their children. There will be talk of me in Mentrassanae, my home. Talk of the wayward shaman’s daughter, the cunning sorceress.
I have killed a Darrakhai, whose name already escapes me, even though only a mere handful of days have passed. I escaped punishment too – why punish the ladle if the diner burns himself with the broth. A smile passes my lips but it does not linger long. Already there are sounds in the house. Dawn must be rapidly approaching; a key turns, a door opens, footsteps going up, quieter footsteps descending, a mouse scuttles over the kitchen flagstones and incense is lit. My mind is ever alert but it wearies me. Better to think of other things, to dream of the past, as perhaps the moth does in its chrysalis, before it is reborn.
I hear waves breaking
Upon a deserted beach;
A place as distant
As the mountains of the moon.
Yet, to me, it seems like home.
I see myself now in the polished mirror of my mind. I am beautiful, as I have oft been told. We of Mentrassanae hold false modesty to be as contemptible as any other lie. Indeed I am possessed of beauty; I am tall and my back is straight, my shoulders are broad, for they have already borne many burdens and borne them well. My face is fair and my hair is darker than the storm clouds, my mouth has full lips and my eyes are as green as the southern sea. My legs are as fair and as shapely as any, my breasts shake and there is thunder, my hips are the embodiment of flame, my mouth is the crucible of desire and what there is between my legs men and women alike would give much to possess. But more than this; my passion and my power both glow inside me like the fires of creation, spinning a veil of light that these ignorant Darrakhai cannot see.
Now faces crowd me as I fall deeper into my reverie. I see the golden, jewel encrusted visage of Menkeret the kindly, my father the wise, my brothers, the young women of my retinue – brave and beautiful are they all. But one face comes to the fore as all others slowly recede; Oltos, my lover.
He was the son of old Kakryllion the fisherman. I remember well the day I first saw him; I was seventeen and had already enjoyed several lovers, all of whom my parents had picked.
It was a hot summer’s day at noontide and Oltos was at the quayside hauling his catch out of a tiny boat. I stopped, to the great consternation of old Ultaa, my maid. I watched him haul the fish from the tiny craft. He was naked, not an unusual sight in summer by the quay, but his rippling muscles under deeply tanned skin, his shoulders bearing the swirling black tattoos of the fishermen of Mentrassanae and his hair; long, raven black and glistening with the sweat of toil, all this made my heart beat faster, my eyes widen and the inner depths of my body stir. For a long while I watched him, feasting my eyes on his powerful back, his legs with their every muscle defined, his perfect, smooth buttocks and the compact package of his hips that hinted at the power they might contain. Still he had his back to me.
Deaf to her protestations, I left Ultaa the old crone, behind and walked up to the water’s edge. The smell of the boats, of the sea and salt come back to me now and are more wonderful that the costliest of scents. I said nothing to him, my eyes simply continued to drink in his beauty then he turned and caught sight of my sandaled foot. He looked up, doing nothing to conceal his nudity.
“Can I help you my lady?”
But his words were lost to me, like a breath is to the wind. I saw eyes of fierce turquoise blue, large eyes that glowed with honour and with nobility far above his humble station. I saw a face tanned by the sun and sea, stubbled, strong and glistening. Here was a man of surpassing beauty. I stood firm even though my legs were trembling and an ache had developed in my inner depths.
“What is your name fisherman?” I asked at last.
“I am Oltos, son of Kakryllion.”
Suddenly the screech of a passing gull made me look at his wrists. He did not wear the sacred matrimonial thread. My heart stirred again and gave me added courage.
“How much for your catch Oltos son of Kakryllion?”
“All of it my lady?”
“Aye, I never do anything by halves.”
Now he did something that I will recall and treasure all my days; he leant back against the mast of the boat and swung his hips to one side. At first I thought this was a mark of disrespect but as I looked at his manhood, my heart melted like beeswax in a fanned flame.
“One hundred oboli, my lady.” He said firmly.
“Ultaa, give me two hundred and fifty oboli.”
Again I was deaf to Ultaa’s cacophony of complaints. I took the money from her and jumped down into the boat. Fearing that I would fall, Oltos went to catch me but I am sure footed. He smiled modestly as I paid him.
“My lady is most generous.”
“Not at all. I may have paid for the fish but it is not fish that I want.”
I smiled at the puzzled look on his dark features.
“When do you sail tomorrow?”
“At dawn, my lady.”
“From this same quay?’
“Aye my lady.”
“Good. Do you sail alone Oltos?
“Aye.”
“Good. Now give these fish to whoever you think needs them.”
“Aye, if my lady so desires.”
I left him without another word and without looking back. That night I prayed fervently to Menkeret, that my quest would succeed and I slept soundly but my dreams were crowded with of visions of Oltos. I awoke long before dawn. Having stolen a maid’s homespun dress, scarf and cloak, I dressed quickly and slid out of the back of the house. My father’s guards saw me but thought nothing of a maid walking through the herb garden at that early hour. I climbed over the wall and jumped silently down. As the house of my father is close to the sea, I did not have far to go. Then, as often happens, lines from the sacred canticle entered my mind; a gift from the gods. I recited them,
The sea sighs softly,
Touched by a cold breeze at dawn;
The sun, her lover
Having long forsaken her.
Several minutes later I was by the quayside once again. It was busy, as the city’s fishermen all prepared to depart on the morning breeze. I drew the broad collar of the maid’s cloak about my face and walked down past the many moored boats.
There was Oltos. He was busily coiling rope and wore a short kilt and an amulet around his throat: the Eye of Menkeret, he of propitious omens! This was an auspicious sign indeed; my quest may well succeed. Without the slightest hesitation, I jumped down onto the deck of Oltos boat. He turned and saw me as I stepped into the tiny cabin and shut the door. Inside it was clean and tidy and there was a small bed. I was surprised at how comfortable it was as I sat upon it with crossed legs. I drew my scarf around my face, leaving only me eyes uncovered. I expected him to follow me into the cabin but he did not. Instead I felt the sensation of motion as the boat responded to the gentle push of the breeze. I strained and swerved as several minutes passed. I waited impatiently and slid my hands down to my inner thighs and across my pussy to check again the work of the maid who had shaved me the previous night. As soon as I found that all was smooth and well, there came a knock at the door.
“Enter.”
Oltos entered and smiled upon seeing me sitting cross legged and veiled on his bed.
“If it pleases my lady, we have sailed from the harbour and at the hour we will be beyond sight of the outermost barrier. The sea surrounds us.”
His voice was deep and commanding but he spoke gently and quietly lest he frighten away the timid deer that he then thought me to be.
“May the Goddess of the Winds be kind.”
“Indeed, may she ever be so.”
I took off my veil and untied my long hair, shaking it loose. I saw his beautiful eyes widen with delight and this, more than all the polished praises that I was used to, won him to my heart. I took his hand and he knelt before me. I smiled to reassure him,
“Oltos, be not afraid. The Gods of the Sea have sent me here for your pleasure.”
Well, that was only a half truth.
I removed the scarf and the cloak; throwing them over his head. I then unbuttoned the maid’s dress and let it fall from my shoulders. I looked up at him slyly, tossing my hair back to leave my breasts uncovered. He was amazed as he took in my nudity and drew a deep breath. I giggled and took his hand slowly. I rubbed his palm over my soft breasts and across my nipples. His hands were strong and hard but surprisingly smooth. I lay back slightly, relaxing as he played with my breasts. I could tell that his hands were experienced.
I lunged forward to kiss him, holding his hand so that he could not escape. His mouth was as sweet as spiced mead. His lips had the savor of almond blossom and as he bit my lips and explored my mouth with his tongue, I felt liberated, like a feather in the breeze floating over a warm and tranquil sea. I gripped his head and ran my nails through his long hair as my mouth savored his lips. My hands found tight muscle, and sinew, rippled like the furrows of the boundless sea; they found firm, cool flesh and skin like fine damask. At length I reluctantly pulled away from him and bade him stand.
“As my lady commands.”
With one dexterous stroke I removed his fisherman’s kilt. He took two steps back but not out of modesty; Mentrassan fisher folk are well accustomed to their own nudity. Nay, it was so that I could see him in full. If he sought my approval; he had it, well and truly, by now. Beneath a sharply triangular torso with six chiseled abdominals, between a set of narrow hips and above a pair of long muscular thighs, the gods had hung his magnificent cock.
I rested my head on my shoulder to admire it; framed by his tanned thighs and crowned with as little curly black hair. Already my pussy tingled with expectation.